Getting back

Or TIWHBALYIIHBOS (Things I Would Have Blogged About Last Year If I Hadn't Been On Sabbatical) #3

Back in 2022, in my end of year round-up, I made Paul McCartney my person of the year, on the basis of his headlining Glastonbury at 80 years of age and doing an excellent job of it. At the time, I wrote, "He's basically a very few years younger than my old man who, on occasion, struggles a bit to headline the armchair. So well done Paul - I hope you tour at least once more, so I can finally see you live."

Well, he did tour again; his "Got Back" tour trundled around the globe through the latter half of 2024, culminating in two nights at the O2 Arena. Which is how I found myself, six days before Christmas, sitting way up in the stand stage left, finally getting to see the man himself. Now 82, for very nearly 3 hours Paul and his band were everything you would expect and hope for, and then some. At times it was almost too much to take in, there seemed to be so much going on, even if a lot of it was largely expected: staggering pyrotechnics during Live and Let Die, for example, or mass singalong na-na's for Hey Jude. We've all seen these things so often, haven't we, not least at the aforementioned and brilliantly televised Glastonbury set. But there were surprises: I watched it snow inside the cavernous dome of the O2, for a seasonal rendition of Wonderful Christmastime (made less cheesy by the joyous accompaniment of the Capital Children's Choir). I saw a skeletal Ronnie Wood, wizened almost to the point of self-parody, join Paul on-stage for Get Back. But the biggest surprise of all came during the encore.

Immediately after Paul's duet with a virtual John Lennon on I've Got A Feeling (again, no surprise, he did that at Glasto too), I saw a second drum kit appear at the side of the stage. "No way," I muttered, to no-one in particular. Because an extra drum kit could surely only mean one special guest?

Anyway, I was sat a long way up, and my camera is quite old, but with those apologies out of the way, this is what happened next...

There's a lot I like about this, not least that Paul's regular drummer, the amazing Abraham Laboriel Jr, watches Ringo intently throughout, the way that middle-aged children watch their parents at family gatherings, to make sure they get through it all okay.

I'll be honest, I'd booked the last night of the tour for the slightly morbid reason that, at 82, I figured it might conceivably be Paul's last live performance. "I was at McCartney's last ever gig," I could later claim. Me and 20,000 others, right? But after the (again expected) finale of Golden Slumbers, Carry That Weight and The End, Paul said his goodbyes to the crowd, ending with a cheery "See you all next time." So what do I know?

Well, what I do know is that the gig, a Christmas present to myself if ever there was one, was amazing. It hasn't shot to the very top of my notional "Top Ten Gigs" list, though it is certainly a new entry to that particular chart. And it felt like more than a gig - a spectacle. At times it was almost too much to process, a feeling compounded by going alone: I had no-one to talk to about what I was seeing and hearing, and no-one to bounce reactions off. But the bottom line? Whether it was his last gig or not, I'm glad I went - the experience, the music, the sensory overload, two Beatles for the price of one, and everything else. Whatever your view of the man, he puts on one hell of a show. So, with another apology for poor quality (especially when I had to try to film around heads, towards the end), here's a video of that closing medley.